between writing and eating raw almonds and listening to Debussy. i think i cannot do more than one at the same time.

i fear i am a liar and a scoundrel. I just sent an email to my therapist, informing her that I would have to cancel this week’s session because I just had a rather exorbitant car repair bill and I barely have enough funds to make it through August intact. But I still feel as if I am a liar and a scoundrel because i am on the verge of abandoning therapy… or more specifically, the cognitive behavioral kind I mentioned a couple of days ago. had I not been on the verge of abandoning it, i would not have minded going into further into debt for another session.

but enough about therapy.

which is interesting because it occurs to me that I have barely uttered a single word all day day, except to the cashiers at Whole Foods and the coffee person at Metropolis. I can’t think of anyone else.

oh i almost forgot, the shoe person at REI, which was my great moment of humiliation of the day. i’ve heard people raving about these “5 finger” shoes for barefoot running… they’re supposed to work wonders on the feet, knees and back. So I went to REI to give them a try, in spite of the fact that I don’t even run. The shoe person patiently watched as I struggled and struggled and struggled my hardest to fit each toe into each finger of the shoe… and he was so patient… but I just could not do it. It was literally physically and psychologically draining… demoralizing. I bowed down my head in shame.. admitted my defeat.. wept and surrendered.

The shoe person suggested that I buy the shoes, give them a try at home, and if they did not work out, I had an unlimited time to return them!!! And I was about to do so, but then the realization came to me that if my therapist learned I had invested in a pair of shoes that I could not even put on my feel… what would that say about me?

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About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me).
My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.

One Response to there is a choice … isn’t there?

Don’t be hard on yourself – I have a pair of those toe-shoes that my sister gave me. I, too, was frustrated and demeaned by them at first. Still to this day, a year or two later, I find them preposterously hard to get on, whereas my sister just slips into them. It’s a kind of coordination one never has practiced before and it is NOT easy. It’s not even just hard. It’s super hard.
But they are nice. I don’t run. And I like them. But I wear them especially because I have a short leg and in yoga class they don’t let you wear shoes so I can’t wear my life so I finally found these shoes which they do let you wear for some reason and I can put my 3/4 inch lift in the heel and nobody asks me why I’m wearing shoes because somehow they are accepted.
That is, when I get courage and self-love enough to actually go to yoga classes.